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Tweak says, "i like juice!"

susan bones (saintbones) wrote in amortentiarpg,
@ 2008-10-13 19:55:00

Entry tags:

eddie carmichael, susan bones

Who: Eddie and Susan
When: Monday, October 13
Where: Eddie's place.
What: Susan is upset over Rita Skeeter's Prophet Article
Rating: PG/PG-13
Status: Inomplete

After the stress of the past couple of weeks, planning a festival, running it, and pulling it off, Susan was looking forward to finally having a day off. And so far, it had gone great. She had woken up late, soaked in a bubble bath, finished the book she had started two months earlier, and had gotten through half a gallon of double-chocolate ice cream. She was just settling down for a nice, hot cup of tea when she noted that the Prophet had been delivered.

That was when things went wrong.

She was used to seeing her picture on the cover -- none of them were ever as nice as the ones Eddie took, though, she noted -- but this...this was different. It was the headline that accompanied the picture that made her feel ill. The actual article only made her feel worse. How could anyone write that about her? How could anyone even think -- and then she noticed that that -- that -- that -- witch! of a woman Rita Skeeter had had a hand in it.

Anger soon overtook her initial feeling of shock, followed soon by a rush of sadness. She felt tears prick at her eyes, which made her even angrier. She was not going to cry. She just wasn't. Not over a stupid article that a dreadful person had come up with.

Telling herself she wasn't going to cry didn't seem to be working. So she did the first thing that came to mind. She ran into her bedroom, pulled on an old pair of jean and a loose sweater in place of her house robe, her still damp hair falling in messy waves around her face. Wiping at a few of the tears that had managed to escape, she didn't even bother to put on shoes before she apparated to right outside Eddie's door. She seemed to be running to him a lot recently. Though she supposed it wasn't just recently. It had been since her Aunt's funeral, when he had been the sweet but strange and creepy boy who had asked if he could take her picture, because she looked so pretty and sad sitting there alone. Though she had refused to let him photograph her at that time, she was glad she hadn't refused to have anything further to do with him. He had been her saving grace at more than one point.

Prophet clenched in one shaking hand, she knocked on his door, her voice coming out choked as she called his name.

"Eddie! Eddie! Please be home..." Lower lip trembling and visibly distressed, she knocked again, louder. "Eddie?"

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picture_this
2008-10-13 08:45 pm UTC (link)

Eddie himself had been shocked and angered by the article in the prophet. And if it had upset him, he just knew it would shatter Susan. As soon as he saw his blonde friend's face winking from the paper and read the accompanying byline, he'd dropped the Prophet and put a pot of water on the stove. He wasn't sure if he thought Susan would show up at his house to seek comfort or if he just wanted her to show up. It was almost a sick fascination he had with Susan. She was probably the only person who had ever truly needed him, and while he didn't like to see her in pain it also meant that she would continue to run to him.

He moved in a half dream-like state as he began to do the one thing he always did when something upset him: cook. Still hoping that Susan would be showing up, Eddie began collecting ingredients in his kitchen to make a cake. Cocoa, vanilla, butter, flour. He began adding everything into a giant mixing bowl, stirring slowly and preheating his oven.

Eddie left the bowl on the counter and picked the Prophet back up. Now that he had a few minutes of time to kill, he had the chance to properly read the entire article. It was absolutely brutal. To think that someone would accuse Susan of stealing the money she was bringing it! The things he wanted to do to Rita Skeeter.

However ... the corner of Eddie's mouth twitched slightly, fighting back a smile as he saw his name mentioned at the end. Partners in charity? That sounded suggestive. Surely Susan would be here now. She'd definitely need to talk to someone after reading an article as atrocious as that one. Bringing up her Aunt had been a low blow.

But there was no Susan. The oven pinged to signal it's readiness, but he didn't put the cake batter in quite yet. What if Susan had gone to someone else instead of him? Eddie's mouth pressed into a thin line, but before he could decide what to do next he heard his friend's desperate voice outside his door.

At the first sound of his name, Eddie quickly moved across his flat and picked up his camera. At the second, he dropped a fresh roll of film into it and set it on the counter near his oven. By the time she said his name a third time, he had just about reached the door. He pulled it open and stepped back to let Susan in. He wasn't sure what to say, not at first.

"Water's on. Tea?"

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saintbones
2008-10-13 09:05 pm UTC (link)

When the door opened and Susan saw Eddie, she felt relieved. Still upset and about five seconds away from sobbing, or throwing something, or both at the same time, it was just...if nothing else, Eddie was there for her. With tea, bless him.

Sniffling, Susan wiped at her eyes again, clearing her throat so her voice would come out somewhat normally. "Have you r-read the Prophet y-yet?" she managed after a couple of minutes, hugging herself as she stepped into his apartment, glancing around without really taking much in for now. "Tea would be nice." She would not cry. She would not cry. She would talk into the kitchen, sit at the table, and have tea with her best friend.

Once she was settled in a chair, she finally looked up at Eddie, then looked around. It looked like he was baking, and his camera was close, as it always seemed to be. That made her smile, almost, something so normal in what was turning into a miserable day. She still couldn't quite believe what she had read. One glance down at the paper that was still in her hand made the smile fade as quickly as it had come, however, and she felt her eyes glassing over with tears again. Stifling a sob with her hand, she dropped the paper to the floor and pulled her knees up.

She hated feeling sorry for herself. She really did. There were others with so many more worries -- with so much less than she had. And yet, she was hurt. Upset. She felt so betrayed, that after all she had done, how much she had worried and agonized and helped, even those that maybe didn't quite deserve it, that someone would allow that article to be printed.

"How -- why -- would she write such terrible things about me -- and you. I can't believe she just..." Shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. What was worse, she realized, was that not only had Rita suggest that she stole money, was that Eddie had something to do with it as well.

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picture_this
2008-10-13 09:27 pm UTC (link)

It nearly broke Eddie's heart to see Susan standing on his porch, no shoes, looking as if she was going to fall apart. He bit down on his bottom lip and put his hand on his friend's shoulder as she made her way to his kitchen table. "I've read the Prophet." His face was in an angry, hard expression. He turned his back to Susan and busied himself with the task of getting two teacups and teabags, of arranging them on the table with spoons and a pitcher of cream. On a whim, he turned off the oven and set the mixing bowl of cake batter on the other side of the table as well. Comfort food -- sometimes better before it was even cooked.

Eddie paced his kitchen for a few steps. When Susan dropped her copy of the paper he swooped down and crumpled it in his hands, tossing it into the rubbish bin. He gave her a pointed look. "Rubbish," he said firmly, sending his own paper in the same direction.

Susan looked so frail. Eddie moved to stand next to her, and he dropped to his knees and carefully, hesitantly, wrapped his arms around her waist, her folded up legs. He thought she quite needed a hug and this was really the only way he could manage in such an awkward position.

"She's a disgusting, vile woman who doesn't know what the bloody hell she's talking about. Don't worry, Susan, she only writes nasty things about good people. You remember Harry Potter? And Dumbledore." Eddie's voice caught for a second. "She had no right to say anything of those wretched things, but they aren't true and no one will believe her." He was pulling away from her then, reaching up to drop a cube of sugar into his own tea. His hand was so close to his camera, he couldn't stop himself from picking it up and snapping a photo of Susan curled up in his kitchen. He put it back down and sat in the chair across from her, stirring the sugar into his tea.

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saintbones
2008-10-13 09:59 pm UTC (link)

Susan barely noticed Eddie moving around until he crumpled up the paper and threw it away. She was surprised to see the tea, cream, and bowl of cake batter on the table, and she blinked through her tears at them. She knew she should uncurl herself and try to calm down, but she couldn't. It was too much, the article, after such a long two weeks working on the carnival, and she couldn't bring herself out of her misery at the moment.

She was a little surprised when his arms wrapped around her, though it was comforting. She let her head rest on his shoulder; his voice sounded a little funny coming from so close. His words were comforting, and true. She felt a little better until he pulled away, at which point she sighed, glancing up at him. Susan barely registered the fact that he took her picture, though she did frown slightly, shifting a little in her chair. She could smell the tea, and something warm would probably do her a world of good.

She let her legs unfold from her chest, her feet meeting the chilly tile of the kitchen floor. She reached out for the cream, trying to herself as together as she could.

"I know. And I should have known that something like this could happen one day. I just -- I didn't think it would hurt so much." Honestly, she couldn't think of a time she had felt so miserable, besides her Aunt's funeral, which had been worse. Part of her knew it was ridiculous to be so upset, so she tried to think of something else. The only thing that came to mind was her tea, and Eddie's camera. "Why did you take my picture?" she asked, softly, as she stirred cream into her tea.

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picture_this
2008-10-13 10:29 pm UTC (link)

Eddie carefully studied Susan's face. He added some cream to his own tea after Susan placed the pitcher back down, stirred in another cube of sugar. He was silent for a moment before taking a long sip of his tea and then sighing. "Are you cold?" He wasn't sure if she was shivering because she was upset or because she was too chilly in his house. Eddie was rarely home long enough to bother with setting the temperature to a comfortable level, which often caused things to be too cold or too hot for the general visitor. Not that he had visitors.

One hand was braced on the table, ready to help Eddie jump into a standing position of Susan told him that she was, in fact, cold. He was sure he had a sweater or a blanket or a pair of slippers around his flat for that he could give to her. Anything to show her that he was always going to be there to make everything better.

He paused, though, when she asked about his camera. Eddie dipped his hand into the mixing bowl and scraped a line of chocolate cake batter onto his finger. He waggled it at her for just a second before licking the batter off. He should just get a damn spoon.

"Dirty habit," he muttered with a grin, pushing the bowl closer to his friend. "But I took your photo because you are beautiful. That's all." Never mind that he had literally hundreds pictures of her already. Susan's face, besides being lovely, had an incredible range of emotions. Seeing her distressed and barefoot on his chair was just too good of a photo op to pass up. He hoped she didn't mind too much.

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saintbones
2008-10-13 10:53 pm UTC (link)

Susan sipped her tea. "Hum? Cold?" She was a little chilly, even with her long sleeves. The tea was helping a little, but the blonde was starting to think that a blanket to wrap around herself, and maybe a comfy couch to curl up on, would help her feel better. Or at least calm her down. Eddie being there was helping calm her down; there was just something about him that made her feel better.

"I'm a little cold," she answered. He was always so sweet to her, so kind and thoughtful. Managing a hint of a smile, Susan brushed tangled hair away from her eyes, taking the time to actually look around. She shook her head at him as he licked the batter off his finger. She reached out, sticking a finger into the batter, the licked it off. Her eyes closed for a moment -- it was so chocolate and perfect, like everything Eddie seemed to bake. Or not bake yet, in this case. She licked the corner of her mouth to get a smear of batter off of it, before looking at his camera again.

"Oh. I see." She hadn't honestly expected him to answer, especially not with that. It hit her again how sweet Eddie was to her all the time, and she shook her head again, looking at him with still-teary eyes in something like disbelief. "I -- thanks for the tea, Eddie," she settled on saying, feeling a little lame. Susan wondered if she should care that he took her picture while she was so upset, but she couldn't find it in her to scold him. Nor did she think she could find it in her to care if he took more. Right now she just wanted tea, something warm to wrap herself up in, and comfort. She didn't much mind what else went on.

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picture_this
2008-10-14 03:11 pm UTC (link)

"Come on, Susiebee." Eddie picked up Susan's cup of tea and carried into his living room, setting it down on the end table next to his couch. He shuffled into the hall and pulled a large blanket from the closet. Arranging it on his sofa, he then ventured back into the kitchen (which was really the same room as the living room, it just had a row of cabinets to sort of make a wall) and picked up his own teacup. An open hand gestured towards the couch, implying that Susan should go and make herself comfortable. Eddie grabbed his camera and the bowl of cake batter almost as an afterthought and followed the blonde into his sitting area.

The camera and batter went down on the coffee table, and Eddie himself plopped unceremoniously on the couch beside his friend. The chill of the house wasn't really bothersome to Eddie, so he was perfectly content to let Susan wrap herself up in the entirety of his blanket. Anything, as long as she was happy.

She had stopped talking. Eddie sipped his tea in silence for a few moments before turning to glance at the television on the wall across from the couch. "Do you want to watch something? Or..." His voice trailed off, unsure as to what else he could offer her. Though he wouldn't want to particularly admit it, Eddie was terrible at entertaining guests. He could normally skate by with presenting a delicious meal, but after dinner was over he was never quite sure what to do with himself.

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saintbones
2008-10-14 08:35 pm UTC (link)

Susan watched Eddie leave and then re-enter the kitchen, and at his gesture she picked herself up and moved towards the couch. Grateful to see the blanket, as well as her tea sitting on the coffee table, she wrapped herself in the soft cloth and curled up against the arm of the sofa. This was slightly better, she thought, as she let herself sink bonelessly into the cushions. She gave Eddie a tremulous smile in way of thanks, then let her attention briefly drift around the room. He hadn't been lying when he said he had quite a few pictures of her. She wondered if she should be embarrassed or perhaps a bit creeped out, but found herself oddly flattered instead.

Leaning forward to get her tea, Susan thought on Eddie's question. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do. Or if she even cared. T.V. would just be noise in the background; a distraction. She found herself missing her Aunt Amelia, especially at Eddie's earlier use of the nickname Susiebee. Amelia had called her that, and while at first it had bothered her when Eddie had started to use it, it was, she found, comforting at the moment, despite the memories it brought up.

"Aunt Amelia used to call me that, you know. Susiebee." Her mind on family, the absently wondered if her mother and father were trying to get a hold of her. She didn't want to know what they'd say about the article at the moment; Susan hardly felt like dealing with parently indignation at the moment, even if it would be on her behalf. "Oh. If you want to put on something," she said, shaking her head as she realized she hadn't answered his question. "I don't care either way. Its nice just...being close to a friend." She still refused to cry.

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